


Kiss Me In The Shower, Shower Me With Kisses

by SomethingRoyal



Category: Hockey RPF, Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: But then there's fluff, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Smut, did I mention sexual tension?, i still don't know how to tag sorry :/, like a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingRoyal/pseuds/SomethingRoyal
Summary: “Tell me, what can I do? Please, I want to help you”“I don’t know.”“Yes, you do. So ask."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is not my first fic but it is my first fic with any kind of sex or smut or anything of that nature so if you have any tips I'd love to hear them, or just let me know if you liked it. 
> 
> _____________________________________________
> 
> This work is dedicated to the Tuukka Rask Fan Club- ladies thank you so much for your feedback and support!

     Patrice watched Tuukka from across the room carefully. The game may have seemed like a good old-fashioned original six matchup, but he knew how little justice the camera does. The hits and blistering shots Tuukka took affected the netminder more than anyone saw, and though he’d never admit it, Patrice could see the subtle tension in the Finn’s shoulders as he peeled his jersey off. It was almost funny to Patrice how invisible Tuukka could make himself. But when it made the dark purple bruises on Tuukka’s rib cage go unnoticed, Patrice couldn’t help but want to scream at Marchy to turn down the god awful rap music and have someone else see how much their goalie went through. Of course, Tuukka would be somewhere in between furious and embarrassed at the attention, stubbornly repeating “I’m fine” like a broken record while trying to weasel his way out of the spotlight. And not to mention, go home like he hadn’t practically handed the team two points.

     Patrice’s eyes unconsciously traced the net minder’s body for other bruises and injuries. Tuukka was 6’ 2’’ and 185 pounds, but he was an athlete and it showed. He was no linebacker, but his lean muscles wrapped around every inch of his body, and Patrice could see the powerful tissue shifting every time he made a slight move. His long limbs moved with unwavering precision and coordination despite Patrice knowing how exhausted he must have been. The forward did notice other dark splotches of discolored skin on the goalie’s body- one nasty looking bruise on his shoulder from a spectacular save and another along his hip that dipped below the line of his shorts hanging low on his waist. Patrice didn’t mean to wonder how far down the bruise stretched- if it trailed straight down his muscular thighs or if it wrapped around inward- but his eyes seemed glued to the curve of the goalie’s hips. Patrice felt heat rise to his cheeks, and he felt something on him, something that drew his gaze back up to the goalie’s face. A hot blush ran to his cheeks when he looked up and saw Tuukka’s emerald eyes staring back at him. Patrice’s eyes darted down in with a subtly that would have Brad laughing until he was blue in the face. Patrice tried to look very interested at the jersey in his hands, but he could feel Tuukka’s eyes linger on him for a moment, and it wasn’t at all helping the growing feeling in his stomach. When he dared look up again, Tuukka was gone, and Patrice let out a breath he didn’t think he was holding in.

 

       _Oh merde, this is going to be a long night..._


	2. Kiss Me In The Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Showers go a lot smoother with no clothes on,” Tuukka said.
> 
>  
> 
> “Well, you seem to be halfway there, eh?” Patrice replied.
> 
>  
> 
> “I wasn’t talking about me.”

By the time Tuukka had dragged himself from the media scrum, most of the team was either gone or on their way out. Not that he didn’t want to let himself get dragged to whatever bar Brad insisted “they just had to try”, but Tuukka felt that tonight, in particular, he needed to clear his head. He never let the game get under his skin while the puck was in play, but he never could figure out how to stop it from all catching up with him. Tuukka took his time gathering his things, letting the routine slow down his heartbeat and his breath ease him through the pain that slowly crept back into his bones.

 

Tuukka decided to the advantage of an empty locker room and the Garden’s fantastic water pressure and just shower here. He slowly undid his dress shirt, and with each button, he asked himself why he didn’t just do the media scrum in street clothes like everyone else. Not thinking he had to save face- or body- for anyone, Tuukka made no attempt to hide the hiss that escaped his teeth as he stretched his ribcage taking off his shirt. But his pained noise wasn’t the only one he heard after letting the shirt crumple to the ground. Tuukka unconsciously straightened his back to try and erase any notion that he was in pain and turned his head to see who he shared the room with.

 

     “I thought you would have gone with Brad and the others to the bar,” Tuukka said more as a statement than a question.

 

His back may have been to Patrice, but he didn’t need to see his face to know what expression the forward was wearing; the sound of his voice was all Tuukka ever needed to know.

 

     “And I thought you would have gotten those looked at by Donnie,” Patrice countered.

 

Tuukka finally turned around to face Patrice and didn’t miss the way the other man’s eyes flicked to his shoulder and down to his hip.

 

     “I thought you did more than enough looking me over for the both of you.”

 

Patrice opened his mouth to answer, but Tuukka dropped the accusing look and replaced it with a soft smile.

 

     “Relax Patrice. I’m fine, I promise,” Tuukka said with a hint of laughter. Something glinted behind his eyes though, something that betrayed the lighthearted tone Tuukka was trying to take.

 

In a way only Patrice could, the assistant captain looked deep into that uncertain part of Tuukka’s eyes and said, “Those don’t look fine Tuukka.”

 

He didn’t need to say any more than that to get Tuukka to drop the act and let his shoulders settle with what they both knew was there: pain. Tuukka let out a small sigh.

 

“I will be,” he said. “Patrice, I promise you I will be fine.”

 

“Tell me how I can help, please. Tuukka I hate to see you go through so much while no one else seems to notice.”

 

“You do. Pat, you notice. And it’s not anyone’s fault either. If I wanted everyone to notice, they would, but I don’t want or need anyone coddling me like I can’t handle myself. Besides, there are more important things we need to focus on besides me,” Tuukka said.

 

Somewhere in the short span of their exchange, the distance between them had gotten smaller and gave Patrice a much better view of the patches of discolored skin.

 

“It’s not as bad as it looks, trust me,” Tuukka said softly knowing that Patrice was seeing.

 

“Tell me, what can I do? Please, I want to help you,” Patrice said in a low voice.

 

Tuukka closed his eyes and dipped his head down in a silent battle with himself.

 

“I don’t know, Patrice.”

 

“Yes you do,” Patrice said in a voice that hoped Tuukka would look at him. He did. “So ask.”

 

The last two words where nearly a whisper, but it said everything it needed to loud and clear. Tuukka slowly closed the last bit of space between them, hesitating for a moment inches from Patrice. The forward could feel Tuukka’s steady breath hot on his lips in a silent question. That’s all it took.

 

Patrice’s lips brushed Tuukka’s softly, their breathing slow and drawn out of them by that first kiss. It didn’t take long before Tuukka’s hands cupped Patrice’s face, melting into the kiss in a way that made Patrice’s legs wobbly. With his hands unoccupied, Patrice gently placed them on Tuukka’s shoulders, his left careful not to brush the black and blue puddle of skin, but itching to feel every inch of it available to him. The two stayed in a careful balance as their lips explored one another- hung between passion and caution. Patrice, with all his best intentions, was trying to keep his kisses light and his touches lighter He wanted more, but heaven help him if he ruined what was already a paradise on Earth. Luckily for him, the high heavens work in mysterious ways. Tuukka broke their kiss and let their breathing fill the gap.

 

“Tell me you didn’t lead me on all this way just for a few kisses.” Tuukka’s words were caught in the tension between them, but not without telling Patrice exactly what he meant.

 

“No, of course not,” he replied with a smile. “That’d just be cruel wouldn't it?”

 

“Oh thank god.”

 

With no other need for prompting, Tuukka pressed his lips onto Patrice’s but this time, the kiss was devouring; it seemed to steal the air right from Practice’s lungs. Tuukka went to work, swiping his tongue over Patrice’s lips who gladly parted ways. With a few well-placed flicks of his tongue and Tuukka was swallowing the moans Patrice couldn’t help but elicit.  Patrice, brought his fingers up to Tuukka’s curls, raking his fingers through them just hard enough to make Tuukka’s head tip back slightly into the touch, and he thought he heard a noise from deep in the Finn’s throat.

 

Getting restless, Tuukka started to push their bodies backward until Patrice’s back was flush to the wall. Instinctively, Tuukka’s hands reached for Patrice’s shirt, but he paused suddenly sober from the heat growing between them and pulled his hands away.

 

“What, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” Patrice asked quickly without breath.

 

“No, no of course not it’s just- I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do,” Tuukka replied. The uncertainty in his voice was sincere and Patrice reached out, hand splayed on Tuukka’s chest.

 

“Tuukka, I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want,” Patrice paused to study the man in front of him. “All of this.”

 

Tuukka took the suggestion and caught Patrice by the waist, pressing their bodies together. He leaned in close, and although their heights weren’t much different, Patrice felt like he had to look up to meet Tuukka’s eyes. Tuukka took the advantage he had and leaned in so that his lips just brushed Patrice’s neck.

 

“Hmmm so all this is really more for you than for me huh,” he said, dropping his voice which made Patrice almost visibly shiver. Before Patrice could reply, Tuukka tilted his head and caught that spot just below Patrice’s jawline in his mouth and sucked, hard. Whatever words were going to come out of his mouth were replaced by a noise of pleasure that only told Tuukka to keep going.

 

“No no not at all I just-” Patrice stammered out breathlessly. Tuukka laughed into Patrice’s neck at his loss for words.

 

“Don’t get so wound up, Patrice. I stayed so late to relax after all.”

 

Something in the Finn’s words shattered the last piece of uncertainty Patrice had. Smoothing his hands over Tuukka’s shoulders and letting his nails graze over his skin, Patrice let his hands wander over every inch of Tuukka’s still exposed chest.

 

“You know, you never did get that shower, and I’ve always thought a hot shower does wonders for relieving stress.”

 

Tuukka’s eyebrows raised slightly in pleasant surprise and a playful smirk danced on his lips.

 

“Showers go a lot smoother with no clothes on,” Tuukka said.

 

“Well, you seem to be halfway there, eh?” Patrice replied.

 

“I wasn’t talking about me.”

 

Patrice reached for the top button of his shirt to start undoing them, but they were stopped by Tuukka. Patrice’s eyes flicked to Tuukka’s with a questioning look, but Tuukka simply looked into Patrice, into his soul, like he could see everything Patrice was. Without breaking eye contact, Tuukka’s hands moved with a delicacy that Patrice had never felt from Tuukka before, or anyone, for that matter. The Finn’s deft hands undid each button slowly, too slowly, but Patrice was paralyzed by the way Tuukka looked at him; it was like he was the last drop of water in a desert. Patrice unconsciously shivered when the cotton shirt slid from his shoulders, but he wasn’t sure if it was the cold or Tuukka’s hands running across his skin.

 

Patrice, still paralyzed in the attention Tuukka’s hands were showering him with, that he almost fell backward when Tuukka caught pressed his lips to Patrice's. He wasted no time exploring Patrice’s mouth with his tongue, his breath hot and heavy and taking with it all the air Patrice thought he had left. Not thinking, Patrice fumbled for Tuukka’s belt, hands faltering as Tuukka sucked another hickey into his neck. Patrice would have been embarrassed at how long it took for him to undo Tuukka’s buckle and zipper, but when Tuukka kept his mouth trained on that one spot just where his neck met his shoulder, Patrice wasn’t thinking much at all. Tuukka slid his long legs easily out of his dress pants, and before Patrice could move to his own belt, Tuukka’s lips started kissing their way down; down his chest- his abs, his hips. Tuukka’s hands made quick work of Patrice’s pants and soon they were both standing in their boxers- well only Tuukka was.

 

“I thought we were getting a shower…” Patrice said on a deep exhale.  

 

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten,” Tuukka said while slowly slipping off his boxers. He didn’t miss how Patrice’s eyes followed them all the way to the ground, but on the way up they stopped for a moment on...Tuukka. What the goalie lacked in a stocky build he sure made up for it below the belt.

 

“See something you like?” Tuukka asked.

 

“Mmmhhmm,” Patrice drew out.

 

“Well then, shall we?” Tuukka said, motioning with a glance to a very empty shower.

 

Patrice didn’t say anything in reply, opting to let his mouth do the talking once more; it had been working out so far anyway. The two stumbled over their own feet getting into the showers, Patrice finding his legs first though, pushed Tuukka’s back to the cool tiled wall. Patrice could feel Tuukka smile as he bit and sucked at his bottom lip, feeling a new sense of urgency as the sounds that Tuukka made deep in his throat. Tuukka reached an arm to the side, fumbling with the shower handle. The stream of hot water caught Patrice off guard and in one fluid motion, Tuukka grabbed Patrice’s hands and flipped their positions. Tuukka had Patrice’s wrists pinned to the now warm tile and propped his knee right in between Patrice’s thighs. Tuukka was about to ask if their current position was alright for the both of them, but as soon as Tuukka put a little more pressure on Patrice’s body, the moan that was drawn from the Canadiens throat said he was more than happy where he was.

 

The hot water spilled over their already flushed bodies, and when Patrice opened his eyes (he couldn’t remember when they slipped shut) he was mesmerized at how it ran down the perfect shape of Tuukka’s body. In his haze, Patrice didn’t know when Tuukka had released his hands or where they’d gone, but he found out when he felt something that definitely wasn’t water running down his half hard cock. Despite the heat, a tremor went up Patrice’s spine as Tuukka’s hand kept on amazing him with what they could do; it should be a sin to be that dexterous but who was he to judge.

 

Patrice whined when Tuukka cruelly slid his hand up to caress his waist, drawing them closer. Patrice could feel Tuukka against his thigh, his cock just as hard. The forward shifted his thigh slowly against Tuukka’s straining cock. The moan that escaped the goalie’s lips only made Patrice rock his thigh back and forth agonizingly slow. Tuukka responded by biting and sucking at Patrice’s already red puffy lips, then he kept going back to an already unmistakable hickey just to feel Patrice’s moans against his neck as the forward’s head feel into Tuukka’s neck.

 

Somewhere in between the quickened pace of Patrice’s thigh and Tuukka’s roaming hands, the growing sensation in Patrice’s stomach comes to a point where its no longer ignorable.

 

“T-Tuukka, fuck, I-I…” Patrice pants out with swollen lips.

 

Tuukka nodded vigorously. “I know, I know Patrice.”

 

Practice’s cock can’t take much more of Tuukka’s hand lazily stroking up and down his length any more than Tuukka can stand Patrice’s thigh grinding up against him. Tuukka decided to take matters into his own hands, literally, and lets his hand glide from off of Patrice’s aching cock to settle on Patrice’s ass, fingers slipping down the curve easily. Tuukka can’t even get out the question before Patrice is breathing out ‘yes’ like a broken record. Tuukka circles Patrice’s entrance a few times to make sure, and Patrice nods with earnest. He is careful as he presses in a finger, giving Patrice time to adjust to the sensation.

 

“You ok?” Tuukka asks.

 

“Y-eah, yes,” Patrice replies.

 

Tuukka slides his finger out and presses back in with two, this time as far as he can. He slowly moves his fingers in and out, taking time to let Patrice move with the stretch. Somewhere Tuukka adds a third finger and Patrice’s mind was wracking itself trying to remember when he ever felt this good. Tuukka had picked up a steady rhythm that Patrice’s moans sang along to.

 

“T-Tuukka I-I’m…” Patrice’s voice is shaky as he feels his stomach beginning to twist and turn with pleasure. Tuukka pulls his fingers out causing Patrice to whine at the loss of pressure, but Tuukka wastes little time making it up to him.

 

Tuukka, not able to ignore his own passion, pins Patrice to the wall and presses his cock into Patrice who gasps at the intense pleasure. Tuukka’s moans at the feeling of Patrice around his cock, almost not able to help but rock into him slightly, but he stops himself to check back in with Patrice.

 

“Still good?” Tuukka asks.

 

“Yes, god yes. Please, Tuukka-”

 

Patrice can’t finish his sentence as Tuukka moves, slow at first, but soon Tuukka is putting on a show by moving in and out at a punishingly pleasing pace. Patrice’s mind is so far engulfed in pleasure that the only sound he can make is a string of venereal whines, Tuukka not far off key either. Tuukka leans forward to devour Patrice’s moans with a kiss, and Patrice can’t hold it in any longer. He feels his balls tighten and his stomach constrict as his cum spills in between their bodies. Tuukka isn’t far behind, though and when he heard Patrice’s orgasm, his own comes crashing through him. Patrice near collapses onto Tuukka, and the Finn is lucky his own legs don’t give out from the exertion. Tuukka pulls out slowly and reaches over to hold Patrice close, arm around the forward’s back whose head is tucked into the goalie’s neck. The only sound in the room now is their out-breath-huffs and the steady stream of water on tile. Tuukka didn’t know how long they stood under the stream of water, suspended in each other's arms, but eventually Patrice lifted his head with a lazy smile.

 

       “I guess we should actually take a shower now huh?”

 

Tuukka planted a soft kiss to Patrice’s cheekbone.

 

“I guess so.”


	3. Shower Me With Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, because it’s late and my place is a bit closer- if you wanted to that is- you could…”
> 
> "- Yeah."
> 
> “You could always come back to my place if you’d like.”

One perk about showering at the Garden after games was that Tuukka never had to worry about how long he stayed under a steady stream of steaming water; it wasn’t his water bill to pay. He did sometimes feel a tinge of guilt at being wasteful, but he didn’t abuse the perfect water pressure too often and when he did it was well deserved. This indulgence, though, Tuukka hadn’t found an excuse for. His mind just couldn’t seem to reconcile backing Patrice Bergeron- the saint of Boston- into the Garden showers out of pure carnal desire. He respected Patrice too much to drag him down into whatever pit Tuukka always seemed to end up in at the end of the night.

 

     “You need to stop thinking Tuukka,” Patrice's voice said softly, his lips brushing against Tuukka’s ear as he spoke. His voice not dulled one bit by the sound of the rushing water that was still spraying them both.

 

The forward had pried himself off of Tuukka sometime while he was lost in thought and had moved behind the goaltender. Tuukka had opened his mouth to reply, but any syllables were caught in his throat as Patrice’s hands started to work the knots out of Tuukka’s shoulders. Tuukka’s eyes fluttered shut as the sharp pain of Patrice’s hands undoing the tension stored in his muscles faded into a blissful numbness.

 

     “I said I was here to help, so let me do all the work and just relax,” Patrice said. “I’ve got you.”

 

Tuukka let himself sink into Patrice’s arms, and true to his words, Patrice had him. Patrice continued to let his hands roam over Tuukka’s body, but they weren’t blind with love-drunk passion. This time, they moved with delicate precision, working over every coil and curve of Tuukka’s ligaments and leaving the goaltender near dizzy from how relaxed he felt. But he knew Patrice had him, that he wouldn’t let him fall, and that was a feeling sadly foreign to the Finn. Patrice didn’t feel foreign though, nothing about the Canadian did. They had known each other in so many ways for so many years that Tuukka would be lying if he said he didn’t utterly trust the man standing behind him. Tuukka just never knew how to tell him that… until now at least.

 

In a movement as fluid as the water flowing over them, Tuukka turned around to face Patrice. With the forward’s hands still lingering on Tuukka’s shoulder, Tuukka cupped his hands around Patrice’s face, gentle yet firm as if to tell Patrice he had him just as Patrice had him. For a moment neither moved, neither spoke, Tuukka simply looked Patrice in the eyes and loving every bit of the person he saw. After what seemed like a lifetime, Tuukka leaned in and kissed Patrice with an adoration only found in the lines of poems. Just one kiss, one press of his lips to say everything he wanted to say and everything he didn’t know how to say. Tuukka pulled back to look at Patrice again, hoping to see something that told him he had said it clear enough.

 

     “I love you too,” Patrice said and Tuukka felt the smile that appeared on his face deep in his chest.

 

The two spent the rest of the shower in a comfortable silence. Loving hands glided over one another, the scent of Tuukka’s shower gel Patrice must have grabbed at some point floating around them. Patrice took his time kneading soap through Tuukka’s soaked curls. They were shorter than usual, Tuukka having just gotten them cut, but Patrice didn’t mind- he still loved how the silky hair flowed through his fingers, how Tuukka’s head leaned back into his hands as Patrice’s nails scratched his scalp lightly. Tuukka’s hum of approval made Patrice smile and the forward was rewarded with Tuukka leaning his head on Patrice’s shoulder and turning to give him a kiss. But Tuukka, ever the one to give back, gently coaxed Patrice around as the forward went to rinse the suds out of his hair.

 

     “Your turn,” Tuukka said with a smile. He proceeded to gently massage the shampoo through Patrice’s hair while the Canadian was left wondering how a simple act of having someone’s hands through his hair could feel so good. Maybe it was just Tuukka’s hands.

 

Reluctant as they both were, Tuukka and Patrice found the strength to turn off the shower faucet leaving them in a silent, steamy haze. Luckily Tuukka's original plans to shower had him make sure a towel was ready and waiting right outside the showers for him. When they stepped out into the locker room, their skin was met with the chill of the rink the spilled into the locker room, creating a sharp contrast to their steamed skin which was still flushed from the heat. Tuukka grabbed the towel hanging on a hook and wrapped it around Patrice before darting off to find another towel for himself. When he came back, he saw Patrice had already slipped on his underwear and sweatpants and was toweling off his hair.

 

     "Where'd you get sweatpants from?" Tuukka asked.

 

     "I always keep a pair of casual clothes here," Patrice answered. When Tuukka raised his eyebrows, Patrice took that as his cue to keep explaining. "I've stuck around after hours too, once or twice, and it's nice to have street clothes around instead of a suit."

 

Tuukka nodded and slipped on his own pair of sweatpants he had stashed in his stall. Tuukka decided to skip putting on a t-shirt and just wear a hoodie. Patrice was a bit more sensible as always and put on a long sleeved t-shirt and then a zip-up jacket. Patrice fished his phone out of his pocket and gave a low whistle.

 

     "Were we really in there for that long?" he said.

 

     "Why, what time is it?" Tuukka asked.

 

     "1:49 am."

 

Tuukka didn’t respond but laughed a real laugh, not the one he saved for the cameras. Bergy couldn’t help but smile wide at the sound; he loved Tuukka’s real laugh. Soon silence crept back into the space between them, though, and they both shifted uncomfortably in the familiar room.

 

     “You know, because it’s late and my place is a bit closer- if you wanted to that is- you could…”

 

Tuukka spoke as if each word was a secret he wasn’t supposed to let out, and with Patrice hanging onto every word, they felt like real high school kids under the bleachers at midnight.

 

     “-Yeah,” Patrice interrupted politely.

 

Tuukka scratched a phantom itch on the back of his neck and took an ever so subtle steadying breath.

 

     “You could always come back to my place if you’d like,” he said tentatively. Few people ever saw but Tuukka was nothing if not achingly compassionate for those he cared about and was quick to add, “or I can just drive you back to your place, that’s fine too. Whatever you want to do.”

 

Patrice just smiled and walked up to Tuukka to lace their fingers together.

 

     “Your place sounds great,” he said.

 

Tuukka smiled and that was that. As they walked to Tuukka’s car- the only one of two cars there- he stopped.

 

     “Oh shit...what about your car?” Tuukka asked not all that worried, but a little inconvenienced. Patrice just squeezed Tuukka’s hand pressed their sides closer.

 

     “We can worry about it tomorrow. We have an off day, remember?”

 

Something hung in the air after Patrice’s reminder so the Finn decided to pull at it.

 

     “I guess it’s a good thing. You won’t be sneaking out at 6 am then, huh?” He tried to say in a joking tone. He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he wanted back.

 

They were almost at the car, but Patrice made a point of gripping Tuukka’s arm a bit tighter, sort of hugging his lean arm. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but Tuukka would see his face perfectly fine as he responded.

 

     “I’d never leave you.”

 

Something about how he said it- the choice of his words or the sounds of his voice- settled the unnamed fear in that lurked inside Tuukka. Patrice’s hand in his was enough for them to sit in comfortable silence the whole car ride, fingers intertwined and resting on Tuukka’s thigh. Even in the late hour, the Boston streets were twinkling with white headlights, the traffic lights blinking against the black streets. Their fluorescence flashed against the window which started to blur with snowflakes that melted upon contact with the windshield. The result was a kaleidoscopes colors that outlined their profiles enough for the other to pick out the easy smile playing on their lips. They kept the radio off and let the sound of the city play as they drove. It was busy, rushing to nowhere and somewhere all at once, but Tuukka and Patrice had all the time in the world.

 

They arrived at Tuukka’s front door soon enough, but the game, the post-game, and everything else from that night felt like a lifetime ago. Their exhaustion would be put off no longer as it slowly crept up on them with each step into Tuukka’s apartment high above the city. Patrice had been inside Tuukka’s apartment before but this time it all felt so much more familiar, so much more like Tuukka’s home instead of his apartment.

 

     “You can come in you know.”

 

Tuukka’s voice shook Patrice out of his head and the forward looked towards the direction of his voice. Tuukka was standing in the doorway if his bedroom, body angled as to invite him in. Patrice took his coat off and set it on the hooks on the wall next to the front door, slipping his shoes off while he did. Tuukka’s room was painted while at first glance, but the cobalt curtains that hung across the large windows on the wall lifted the subtle blue hues from the paint. There was what looked to be a very nice master bathroom connected on the far end of the room, but Patrice didn’t look any further than the bed. By the looks of it, it was king sized but Patrice felt it was more for Tuukka’s sprawling limbs than extravagance. The whole apartment felt that way: a lot of space and nicely designed, but never just for show.

 

Patrice would be lying if he didn’t feel a bit nervous about crawling into bed with Tuukka no matter how comfortable it looked, but Tuukka had already peeled his shirt off, throwing it blindly with perfect aim onto a chair across the room. He left his sweatpants on because while they were inside, it was still winter, and the biting wind wasn't going to let up just for them.

 

     “Is this still- are you still fine with this because if not I can-” Tuukka started, but Patrice cut him off.

 

     “No no this is fine, it’s good, I want to- I want this,” Patrice paused to gesture to whatever it was that this was. A tension Patrice didn’t see in the car ride over started creeping over them again. Sensing the silent question, Tuukka spoke softly at the floor.

 

     “I just...I don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want to do,” the Finn looked to meet Patrice’s eyes. “I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

 

There it was- that feeling that made Patrice dizzy, that made his heart flutter, the feeling that’s what told Patrice to stay back and wait for the locker rooms to clear.

 

Patrice stepped into the room, sure of where he was going which was right up to Tuukka. He looked in the goalie’s uncertain eyes that hid hope so well and kissed him like he did back in the locker room the first time.

  
     “I don’t know why I’m afraid around you,” Tuukka’s words were barely a whisper against Patrice’s lips. “But then you go and do things like that and I’ve never felt more sure.”

 

     “I meant what I said Tuukka. I’ve got you and now you've got me; I’ll never leave you,” Patrice responded.

 

Patrice took his shirt off and motioned for the bed, and the smile he got from Tuukka was enough to warm up his bare chest without the need for a comforter. The two laid together, their bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece without hesitation. Tuukka didn’t need to ask if Patrice wanted to nestle his chin under Tuukka’s and Patrice didn’t need to ask Tuukka to hold him close to his chest; they just knew. Tuukka laid a soft kiss in Patrice’s hair while he nuzzled his head into the crook of Tuukka’s neck.

 

     “Goodnight Patrice.”

 

     “Goodnight Tuukka.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this and I apologize for any spelling/ grammar mistakes


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